


the places you have come to fear the most

by perplexed (orphan_account)



Category: Smosh, Video Blogging & YouTube RPF
Genre: (it's basically of the 'man up' variety too but i wanted to throw a warning in here just in case ok), Angst with a Happy Ending, Existential Angst, Hurt/Comfort, Implied/Referenced Underage Sex, M/M, Smut, Vignettes, casual sexism, it's the best type of angst tbh
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-03-30
Updated: 2014-03-30
Packaged: 2018-01-17 13:21:27
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,308
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1389232
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/orphan_account/pseuds/perplexed
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>
  <i>at the age of fifteen, they didn't really get the hype over holding hands with girls or trying to get an awkward two minute handjob under a blanket on a couch at a party - what was the point when your closest friend was happy to stay up late with you and kiss you whenever you wanted? at the age of fifteen, they shared laughs under dark skies and ran away from rain clouds.</i>
</p>
            </blockquote>





	the places you have come to fear the most

**Author's Note:**

> holy shit it's angst with a happy ending!!11!!
> 
> i don't write angst very often but when i do it tends to get out of hand and far more whiny and wordy than i intended.
> 
> also as an afterthought, i realise it looks like i'm referencing mel in this - i'm not, though, i don't like bringing the ladies into angsty stuff like this! 
> 
> [8tracks playlist](http://8tracks.com/bedroomhymn/the-places-you-have-come-to-fear-the-most)
> 
>  
> 
> [reblog on tumblr](http://hecox.co.vu/post/81164307391/the-places-you-have-come-to-fear-the-most-read-on)

"Oh, shut up," Anthony laughed, though he tried to stifle it behind his hand. "Like you've never done anything worse," he murmured, firmly sat across Ian's stomach while he lazily traced light patterns over Ian's chest.

"I've never thrown up actually  _on_  a roller coaster though," Ian said in his defence, half sitting up so he could press warm, soft kisses to Anthony's lips. He grabbed both of Anthony's hands and laced their fingers together, smiling fondly when he lay down again and sighed contently.

Ian always liked spring in California better than summer. It wasn't too hot but at the same time, the nights were just warm enough for him to spend them lying around in the lightly wooded grassland behind Anthony's house until three in the morning without a jacket. It was their little place in the world, away from their parents and other friends, somewhere they went every few days and just lay around when it was warm enough to bask underneath the moonlight that cut through the canopy overhead like silver knives.

At the age of fifteen, they didn't really get the hype over holding hands with girls or trying to get an awkward two minute handjob under a blanket on a couch at a party - what was the point when your closest friend was happy to stay up late with you and kiss you whenever you wanted? At the age of fifteen, they shared laughs under dark skies and ran away from rain clouds.

 

 

* * *

 

"You're kinda being a dick right now." Ian was sitting on Anthony's bed, arms and legs folded and his eyes darkened with a horrendously bad mood. Anthony wasn't helping in all fairness, refusing to try and be anything but obnoxious and loud when all Ian wanted to do was either go to sleep or actually have a somewhat serious discussion about what the fuck it was they'd been doing for the past three years.

" _You're kinda being a dick right now_ ," Anthony mocked, smirking and sticking his tongue out at Ian from his office chair. He reached for the TV remote and turned the volume up. "You can stop being pissy and trying to put a label on something that's just a bit of fun, or you can get the fuck out because I'm not in the mood to deal with your sulky ass tonight."

Ian pressed his lips together and took a deep breath, silently getting up off the bed and scrambling to get his hoodie on, picking his backpack up from where he'd dropped it on the end of the bed.

"It's good to know you think enough of me to at least consider me 'just a bit of fun', I'd have thought even that was out of your emotional remit," Ian murmured under his breath, tripping a little while he rushed to get his sneakers on.

"Come the fuck  _on_!" Anthony shook his head, not even bothering to look at Ian. "If you needed a tampon you could have just said, I'd have gone to the convenience store and got you some," he spat.

"Fuck. You." Ian swung the door open and slammed it shut behind him, breathing heavy and clenching his fists by his sides as he stomped his way down the stairs, stopping briefly to assure Anthony's mom that he was alright before leaving the house.

At the age of eighteen, they stopped holding hands. They didn't go to the clearings behind Anthony's house as often, and though they spent more time together making videos, they didn't kiss like they did before.

 

* * *

 

 

"So you're dating someone, huh?" Anthony asked. He couldn't help but feel a little hurt at the idea - after all they still occasionally hooked up on Saturday nights and sometimes Ian came over just to sleep in his bed.

"Yeah, she's great. I mean, it's kinda early days but she's cool." Ian smiled, obliviously shovelling a taco into his mouth. "It's not serious yet though," he added through a mouthful of food, shrugging.

"Huh." Shrugging a shoulder up, Anthony picked at his food, not really wanting to eat any more thanks to the slow creeping sickness swirling around his stomach.

"We're going to see a movie tomorrow, if you wanted to meet her we could drop by here first?"

For some reason, Anthony nodded and then excused himself. He felt like he'd taken a blow to the stomach but it would pass, he knew it would.

At the age of nineteen, they stopped sleeping together. Ian spent more of his time out of their shared house, leaving Anthony worrying when he didn't get home until five some mornings, more often than not with his girlfriend in tow. At the age of nineteen, Anthony drove out to his parents house every now and then, just to walk through the woods where he and Ian used to spend their nights.

 

* * *

 

 

"I feel like I don't even know you anymore," Ian mumbled, throwing himself down on the sofa and snuggling down into the warmth of his hoodie. "We don't talk like we used to, it's shitty."

Anthony bit back a cutting remark about Ian not even being in most of the time over the last year when they had free time, let alone in alone with him, and just shrugged noncommittally instead. "Yeah, sucks."

"I feel like you don't give a shit about that it all." Ian stretched himself out on the sofa and closed his eyes, sticking to his passive aggressive at best ways.

Anthony pursed his lips and flexed his fingers, walking around the sofa and unceremoniously dropping himself on top of Ian, worming a leg between the other man's thighs and crushing their lips together. He'd had enough of tip-toeing around so he balled his hands in Ian's hair and only pulled away when his lungs burned as much as his eyes did.

"The fuck are you doing?" Ian breathed, his lips slightly parted and pinker than usual. He tasted just how Anthony remembered, but with the slightest hint of leftover lip gloss and stale perfume.

"You know what I'm doing," Anthony replied, eyes closing slowly when Ian tugged him down by the back of his neck and kissed him hard and messy. Anthony's hand roamed under Ian's hoodie, pushing the fabric up and lowering his head to graze kisses and long, hard bites across Ian's chest and stomach.

"I can't do this," Ian said softly, and Anthony lifted his head up, his hair ruffled and his hands still on Ian's hips.

"Want me to stop?" Anthony asked, his heart dropping down into his stomach when Ian nodded and shoved him away by his shoulders. He didn't resist though, backing away to the far end of the couch.

"I'm sorry, Anthony," Ian sighed out, worming his way from underneath Anthony and climbing up off the sofa. "I just... I can't do this," he offered as explanation, picking his car keys up off the coffee table and quietly leaving the house.

Anthony got up, his face burning red hot from embarrassment and the stinging in his eyes as he walked to Ian's room and lay face down on his bed, slamming his palm against the mattress and stifling a small cry in the familiar smelling sheets.

At the age of twenty, they stopped sitting close to each other. Ian stopped trying to talk to Anthony, and Anthony distanced himself from his friend somewhat, though he did still find himself occasionally trying to brush their hands together like a lovesick teenager. At the age of twenty, Anthony found his chest aching any time Ian's girlfriend showed up at their house.

 

* * *

 

 

It should have set some kind of alarm bells ringing when Anthony was woken up by shouting for the third time that week, but he just set his teeth together and willed himself back to sleep. The next time he woke up was because of Ian knocking on his door and not waiting for an answer before swinging the door open. Ian's eyes were burning red and he looked worn out from fighting, dark circles around his eyes telling the world about the three hours of sleep he barely got last night.

Ian crept over to Anthony's bed and lay down on his side, facing away from the other man and curling up in his jeans. "I don't want to sleep on my own," he whispered as an explanation. Ian didn't pull away when Anthony curled a careful arm around his waist and pulled him backwards.

"It's okay, I'm here," Anthony said after a few long moments of silence, shifting back to give Ian more space when he turned over.

"I loved her, you know?" Ian swallowed and avoided Anthony's gaze by closing his eyes. "I really did," he added almost silently, his voice cracking.

"I know, I know." Anthony rubbed Ian's back as his shoulders shook slightly, catching the smell of beer on Ian's breath. "I'm here," he promised, hesitantly pressing a small kiss to Ian's forehead.

"Don't." Ian mumbled, ducking his head further and wiping at his eyes.

At the age of twenty-one, Ian went back to sleeping in Anthony's bed but was always at arms length and not an inch closer. He wanted to roll over and curl into Anthony's chest some nights, press his face against Anthony's neck and listen to his slow, steady breathing, but he never did. At the age of twenty-one, they kept their distance.

 

* * *

 

 

Ian pressed up against Anthony desperately, but eventually just let himself be pinned against the wall. It was hot and humid, their bodies already sticky before shirts had even been long forgotten about. He nipped hard at Anthony's jaw and dug his hand underneath the others' jeans, cupping him through his underwear and letting out a small, broken moan.

"You always act like you don't want this, but then suddenly you do," Anthony stated flatly, "you need to make your fucking mind up, stop playing games," he murmured close to Ian's ear, drawing a small breathy groan from Ian's lips. He unfastened Ian's jeans and hastily pushed them down to his knees, licking his palm before he curled a warm hand around Ian's length. "You can't keep giving me these fucking mixed signals, it isn't fair."

Ian went to protest but he was stopped by Anthony's other hand being clapped over his mouth.

"No, shut up. Don't ruin this," Anthony pleaded, letting Ian bite his palm and muffle a moan against his fingers. "Don't ruin this..."

At the age of twenty-three, they fell into their old routine out of boredom and ease, but there was always an aggressive edge to it. They stopped sharing beds and struggled to look each other in the eyes most of the time. At the age of twenty-three, they kept pushing each other away, only to viciously pull the other back in again.

 

* * *

 

 

Ian hated the drives back from LA the most. Sure, he could have flown instead, but despite the freeway being boring, it had an element of nostalgia to it that he couldn't put his finger on. He liked the freedom of driving as well and it was cathartic to drive at nearly one-hundred on an empty road at two in the morning.

He missed Anthony, despite everything. Missed the quiet mornings watching cartoons, missed four AM writing sessions, missed accidentally getting some of Anthony's clothes in his clean laundry and being able to claim he hadn't noticed. He missed Anthony, more than he'd expected to, but he wouldn't say as much. He'd bottle it up like he always did, until it came out in a drunken slur.

Ian stared out at the road ahead of him, barely lit in places and not lit at all in others save for his headlights and took a shaky breath in as he thought about Anthony living in LA, away from him, away from Sacramento and what Ian guessed he'd assumed would always be  _their_ home. As he pulled off the freeway and onto a more familiar road, Ian steadied himself and tried to curb his reckless driving. Sometimes he wondered if he could get away with driving at eighty through Sacramento, past the places he and Anthony used to sit on warm nights, past the shitty fast food places they frequented early in the morning if they were hungry, past their old house which was basically a storage shed and where Anthony slept when he was staying there for filming, past anything that reminded him of Anthony.

Maybe then he'd be able to let it go and stop the emotion purging nights that followed a trip down to LA if he did that. Maybe he'd be able to forget that Anthony was ever anything loosely considered to be more than a friend.

At the age of twenty-four, they moved half a state away from each other and Ian had never felt quite so lonely as he did in his apartment. He felt like he was in a permanent limbo, never knowing quite where he stood and never having the guts or inclination to ask if there ever had been anything between them. At the age of twenty-four, Ian had gone back to sleeping in an empty bed made for two, and he hated it.

 

* * *

 

 

Anthony didn't know how the argument started or what really ended it. All he knew was that Ian had taken off in a flourish of anger and gritted teeth, too drunk to drive and opting for uncoordinated running instead. Anthony's head swam as he followed after Ian, stumbling and getting cramp in his side within a couple of minutes. He gave it up as a bad effort - Ian was an adult, he could find his own way home Anthony spitefully decided as he sloped back to their old house. He left the door on the latch and tried to stay up, but failed.

When he woke up, Ian was sitting on the bed next to him, his hair messy and his beard untrimmed, still wearing the same clothes he'd left the house in the night before. Anthony didn't expect Ian to slide down the bed and lie next to him, but he wasn't surprised that the other man avoided looking at him when he spoke. The light from the window hit Ian's face in such a way that his eyelashes made long shadows under his eyes.

"I wish things could go back to how they used to be," Ian admitted quietly. "When did this get so complicated?" He questioned, the silence hanging around them almost like tangible, heavy rain clouds.

"I..." Anthony started, then shook his head and leaned up on his elbow, reaching across to caress Ian's cheek. Ian took a slow, shaky breath.

"Don't fuck with me, not about this," Ian breathed as he opened his eyes. "Please." His voice was hoarse, in part from their shouting match the night before and partly from drinking too much alcohol.

Anthony cut him off by kissing him softly, tentative and slow, his hand lingering on the side of Ian's neck. He awkwardly kicked the sheets off him and pulled back slightly, just enough to still feel Ian's breath against his lips.

"Anthony, don't-" Ian started, inhaling slowly through his nose. "Promise me you won't act like this didn't happen tomorrow. Please, just..."

"I promise," Anthony whispered. He closed his eyes when Ian's hand curled in the front of his loose t-shirt and pulled him closer.

Ian kissed him, languid and timid at the same time, and Anthony could feel Ian's slightly damp eyelashes against his cheek when the other man's eyes fell shut. Anthony curled his hand around Ian's hip, thumb slowly brushing over the exposed skin between Ian's sweater and his jeans. It felt new and dangerous again, almost forbidden like it had when they were teenagers, only there was no desperation in sight, just slow, gentle touches and embraces, Anthony leaning heavy on top of Ian and kissing him deeply, Ian's fingers in his wavy hair and legs loosely wrapped around Anthony's back.

Anthony pulled back to rest his forehead against Ian's after both of their shirts had been shed, staring into Ian's eyes as he ran a hand carefully up Ian's side, goosebumps rising in the wake of his fingers. Ian reached down and hooked his index fingers underneath the waistband of Anthony's sweatpants, searching Anthony's eyes for a hint of doubt or reconsideration and just getting a small nod in return.

It wasn't until Anthony was pressing into him - slow, careful and deliberate - that Ian felt the tightening in his chest that he'd come to loathe and fear in equal measures, the slow sinking dread of another embrace forgotten the next day winding through his bones. He trusted Anthony, more importantly believed what he said whether that was foolish or not, so he blinked the stinging in his eyes back and wound his arms around Anthony's shoulders, pulling him as close as he could physically be.

Anthony buried his face against the crook of Ian's neck and pressed soft, careful kisses to his skin while one of his arms held him up and the other gripped one of Ian's thighs. It was all so slow and considered and it left Ian's face burning beetroot red, his grip on Anthony's shoulders tightening further as he rocked up against him slightly.

"I missed you, so much," Ian hiccuped out, conflicted between letting out a small groan and a quiet sob at the closeness after so many years of denial and awkward, quick fucks which they never spoke about. He expected Anthony to pull away then, to try and turn it into exactly what he'd been trying to avoid, but instead Anthony bumped his nose against Ian's and grazed their lips together.

"I miss you too," Anthony murmured. "I miss you every single day of my life," he breathed out, pressing himself up against Ian as closely as he could. "I miss this, I miss us."

It took a lot of effort and stoicness on Ian's part to stop his bottom lip quivering slightly, but he was unsure of how else to show his relief at those words coming from Anthony's mouth. Ian didn't speak because he knew his voice would crack and the surge of warmth in his chest would rise from his lips in a sob if he did, but he hoped his fingertips pressing against Anthony's shoulder and the back of his head said everything for him.

Ian arched his back when Anthony moved slightly, (reluctantly almost,) the coiled spring in his stomach tightening and compressing despite the fact he wished that it could be endless, because he didn't know when or if it would ever happen again, if he'd feel an ache in his chest from love and not longing, if he'd get to feel Anthony's hands on him again like that ever again.

When Anthony came, he arched into Ian, chest pressed against his like his life depended upon touching as much of Ian as possible. Ian squirmed and squeezed his eyes shut, following soon after with a swelling thrum of contentment and adoration pulsing through his veins like treacle. It was only when Anthony was lying next to him and pulling him close, kissing the top of his head and smoothing down his hair that Ian let himself fall asleep, ignoring the light streaming through the blinds.

At the age of twenty-six, they found each other again through heartache and years of quiet yearning until it almost burst through their chests. At the age of twenty-six, they let their guards down just long enough to reach out to each other and fill the holes in their hearts. At the age of twenty-six, they fell into each other through a small space in a grey, drizzly sky.


End file.
